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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26891386">Show and Tell</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>snktober 2020 [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Enemies to Lovers, Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mafia AU, Sexual Tension, Suggestive Themes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:35:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26891386</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Just as Armin was about ready to switch from reviewing paperwork to tearing his hair out, the subtle creak of his door opening alerted him to the arrival of the exact person he had been thinking about and desperately wanted to see.</p><p>“Hey, Boss,” Eren said, walking in like he owned the place and brandishing a folder dotted with blood. “I got the info you wanted.”</p><p>--</p><p>snktober day eight: mafia au</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Armin Arlert/Eren Yeager</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>snktober 2020 [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946416</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>143</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>SNKTOBER Month 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Show and Tell</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>While Armin had never adored field work, he was sincerely considering assigning himself to an outside job just so he could escape the ever-increasing pile of paperwork gathering on his desk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The newfound alliance between the Warrior group and the Scouts was a welcome development; neither mafia had been intensely hostile to each other, but both had come edging upon opposing territory quite often, so it was a relief to have formal territorial terms down in writing. Still, though, the headache that came with having to deal with the intensely time-consuming merger and truce paperwork was almost terrible enough to convince Armin to leave them in a state of animosity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he flipped through several black-lined pages and tugged at his stiff collar, having long abandoned his suit jacket, he couldn’t help but wonder if Erwin had planned his retirement strategically so that the administrative headache would fall to him. It was definitely something the shrewd older man would do; according to the group finances, Erwin was vacationing in a remote island in the Mediterranean, though Armin figured the accounting paperwork was probably fudged for further anonymity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Levi and Hange were, technically, both better choices to replace Erwin than Armin because of their seniority. Both had vehemently declined the offer of leadership; Levi had said he had better things to do than run the shitty Scouts, while Hange had said they much preferred having free time so they could continue with their experiments. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Naturally, Levi and Hange used their seniority to ensure that Armin, and Armin alone, would have to face the bureaucratic nightmare of organized crime syndicates. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was probably divine intervention punishing Armin for inadvertently starting the concept of mergers and alliances within larger mafia groups. He had allowed Eren to integrate with the Scouts, after all. Though the Jaeger mafia, as a whole, was still their main rival, a good portion of Scouts members had joined after defecting from the Jaegers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as Armin was about ready to switch from reviewing paperwork to tearing his hair out, the subtle creak of his door opening alerted him to the arrival of the exact person he had been thinking about and desperately wanted to see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Boss,” Eren said, walking in like he owned the place and brandishing a folder dotted with blood. “I got the info you wanted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Relief and affection flooded in Armin’s chest, and, among the currents, a little bubble of laughter chimed through. Ever since Armin’s big promotion a few weeks back, Eren had taken to calling him “boss” every chance he got. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes the nickname annoyed Armin, sometimes it endeared him, and sometimes it sounded ridiculously good being groaned in his ear between labored breaths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Armin leaned an elbow on his desk, holding out one arm to receive the folder. He examined Eren, taking in his lover’s slightly disheveled form; Eren’s bun was messier than it had been in the morning, there was a light sheen of sweat along the sides of his neck, and the first button of his dress shirt was popped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was most definitely the distraction that Armin had been hoping for. Biting his lip, Armin said with an air of nonchalance, “Hope this one didn’t give you too much trouble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren shrugged, handed the folder over, and rested his palms on the desk, shooting Armin a cocky grin. “You know it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After putting the file away in one of the desk cabinets, Armin leaned back into his chair, neatly stacked the paperwork he had been poring over, and set it to the side. If things went well, he wouldn’t have to work on them for the next hour. “Then maybe you could handle all this paperwork for me? There’s just too much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smirking, voice gravelly and thick, Eren said, “You’re being really whiny today.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Armin risked a glance behind Eren; the door to his office was, blessedly, closed. Mischief clear in the arch of his brow and the parting of his lips, Armin reached forward and pulled Eren closer by his black silk tie. “Are you going to shut me up?” he asked, gaze challenging and defiant; his fingers glided down the length of the tie and trailed over the smooth cotton of Eren’s dress shirt, nails catching briefly on the second button, before settling on the desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without breaking eye contact, Eren walked around the table, fiery and confident, hands lazily tucked away in the pockets of his slacks. The fading light of dusk through the side window painted him as the perfect portrait of forbidden desire, stray strands of dark hair framing the insatiable smolder in his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Armin stood, pushing his chair away from him, anticipation flaring through his veins. The game of hunter and hunted, predator and prey, was one they knew intimately; the thrumming, provocative electricity was addictive, pulling them both in as soon as they had gotten a taste.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Within seconds, Eren was by Armin’s side, pressing him up against the edge of the table, calloused hands settling in the dip of his trim and toned waist; Eren tilted his head downward to capture Armin’s lips in a searing kiss, tender and teasing and tantalizing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few moments of tingling pleasure, Eren pulled away, his breaths ghosting against Armin’s skin and leaving sparks in their wake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t be too rough on me, right?” Armin asked, breathy and amused, the shine of his teeth against the plush skin of his bottom lip implying that being rough was exactly what he wanted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren’s hands traveled downward to grab roughly at the sides of Armin’s hips, pulling the shorter of the two impossibly closer. “Only if that’s what you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The force of Eren’s grip was brutal and bruising, familiar and fierce, as he untucked Armin’s dress shirt and slid an eager hand underneath; he was an artist whose favored canvas was the pale skin of Armin’s hips, painting fresh splotches of blooming color that would join and replace the fading purple of older marks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Armin knew that Eren could kiss the bruises away later, under the gentle cover of the moon, while they both laid on the soft expanse of a pristine king bed that would soon be marred.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panting, Armin reached out to steady himself against the edge of the tabletop, the smooth, expensive wood cool against his overheated palms. It was a sturdy surface, expensive and handcarved, one that could definitely withstand the weight of two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If they acted quickly, Eren could lift him atop the desk and dig nimble fingers more firmly into the freshly-formed bruises, drive away the persistent headache thudding in his temples, and satisfy the empty ache burning through his core. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Armin looped his arms around Eren’s shoulders and used all of his strength to swing both his legs astride Eren’s hips, reveling in the way Eren quickly adjusted his hold to keep them both steady. Feverishly, Armin whispered, “Do you think we can be quick?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever you want, Boss,” Eren chuckled, leaning more of his weight forward to keep Armin pinned against the desk; Armin could feel the edge of the tabletop pressing an indent against the middle of his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as Eren began to slide his hands down the toned curve of Armin’s back, traveling indecently lower, the door to the office slammed open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frantically, Armin dropped his legs down from around Eren’s sides and slid his arms to encircle Eren’s waist. Eren used one arm to keep Armin securely pressed against him, the other already aiming a gun at the doorway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Incessant rambling filled the relative silence of the office, and Armin stared, dumbfounded, at the new recruit who had carelessly barged into his office. Surma, a former Jaeger gruntman with dark cropped hair and spectacles, was hardly paying attention to his surroundings, far too preoccupied with the information he was reading aloud from his folder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Armin exchanged a look with Eren, who, judging by his deep-set scowl, looked like he was close to jumping over the table and strangling the recruit with his bare hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surma stopped in his tracks, likely noticing the lack of response from his boss, and sputtered when he made eye contact with the rightfully annoyed couple. “I… Boss… Young Master—” The poor recruit looked absolutely flabbergasted, as if the world had just turned upside down and he had tumbled off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While Armin’s relationship with his right-hand man was no secret, the two never made it a point to broadcast their intimacy; whenever possible, their public exchanges were professional, if not friendly, hinting very little at the words and touches they shared under rumpled sheets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If someone only looked at the way they conducted business, it was all too easy to ignore how Eren had no designated room of his own, how tenderly Armin would send Eren off on and receive him back from his assignments, how Armin would occasionally sit in a chair with a wince and Eren would stifle a snicker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily, Surma quickly regained his senses, the piercing gazes of the two highest ranked members of the Scouts and the pristine barrel of a pistol spurring him into action. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave a deep bow and apologized profusely, voice edging on the high pitches of desperation. “I’m so sorry! I’ll come back another time!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Armin had never seen anyone run away so fast from him. He made a mental note to add Surma to the list of recruits who would do better being consistently out in the field. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should I chase after him and teach him a lesson?” Eren asked, loosening his hold on Armin but not quite letting go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Armin’s mouth fell open, a reprimand sharp on the tip of his tongue, but a familiar, deadpan voice beat him to it. “Don’t you dare.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Armin extricated himself from Eren’s grasp so he could tuck in his shirt and smooth out his slacks, Eren pouted and placed his gun on the table, not bothering to try and look presentable. “You never let me have any fun, Mikasa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>True to his words, Mikasa leaned against the doorframe, her unimpressed stare clear despite the sunglasses obscuring it. She was dressed in a form-fitting black bandeau and loose black cargo pants, like nimble strength personified; if Eren and Armin hadn’t sufficiently scared Surma off, then running into her on his way down the hallway surely would have. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to stop scaring all the recruits who annoy you. That’s why the Jaeger group was always running out of grunt men,” she said, shaking her head. “You can’t do the same thing to the Scouts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren sighed and looked down at Armin, eyes pleading. “I can’t scare them? Not even just a little?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not even just a little,” Armin confirmed, smoothing down the top of his ruffled hair and shooting Mikasa an apologetic smile. “Believe me, I’d love to watch you do it, but we can’t exactly drive them away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren scoffed, but helped Armin adjust his collar without complaint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Both of you need to be more professional,” Mikasa added, not at all afraid to include Armin in her scolding. “At least lock the door next time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Armin’s two closest confidants engaged in a ferocious and wordless exchange while he watched, vaguely concerned but mostly entertained; Eren’s natural glower, ultimately, was no match for Mikasa’s practiced stoicism.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren huffed, finally giving in, and waved his hand to signal Mikasa to leave. “Then could you lock the door on your way out?” He slid a protective arm around Armin’s waist. “Boss’s orders.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mikasa made a gurgle of disgust and rolled her eyes, but stepped back out of the doorway. Armin laughed as she shut the door, and the lock clicked, leaving them alone again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you always listen to the Boss’s orders?” Armin asked, turning to Eren with a twinkle in his eye and a fond smile on his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eren leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of Armin’s head. “Always.”</span>
</p>
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